Miss Congeniality
by Evil Rabbit
Summary: AU...based on the movie, Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent who is forced to go undercover in the Miss America pageant. Ch.6 up!
1. Chapter 1

Title: Miss Congeniality  
  
Summary: A/U.based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine.don't sue.  
  
Pairing: Spuffy.as always.  
  
A/N: I know I said I'd only do one story at a time, but my other story (Twisted) is taking a really, really long time, so I decided to write this one! ~  
  
Buffy Summers was your regular girl, sitting in a coffee shop.  
  
Sure, she seemed a little * too * preoccupied with her upside down copy of "The Portable Nietzsche" but that didn't matter. If anyone had noticed her, it would have looked odd, yes. But no one ever noticed her.  
  
That was what made her so good at her job.  
  
Because, you see...Buffy Summers wasn't your regular girl, sitting in a coffee shop. She was employed by the Federal Bureau of Investigation. An agent. And a damn good one. She couldn't help think to herself, as she watched the perp through the minuscule screen sitting in her book. A voice played inside her ear.  
  
"Buffy! Do you have a clear view?" It was, of course, Riley Finn, her boss and easily the most tear-inducingly dull person on the planet.  
  
"Right down to his ass-crack, sir." Buffy muttered into the tiny microphone atop of her  
  
"That sure was ladylike, Summers." Another, cocky, British voice drawled inside her ear.  
  
"Go back to Scotland Yard, Spike." She hissed.  
  
"Shut up, you two. We're on an op, if you haven't noticed. Now have you seen the package?"  
  
"I saw * a * package, but it was just food they brought in for themselves. Cheap bastards." Buffy remarked, remembering how much she hated that when she had worked at a diner.  
  
"But not the drugs?" Riley said, rubbing his temples from inside a van on the street.  
  
"Not yet, sir." She said, re-positioning her camera.  
  
"Alright, Raleigh!" Finn barked in Spike's ear, "What's your status?"  
  
Spike rolled his eyes at his colleague, Xander Harris.  
  
"Same as last...sir." He added grudgingly. Xander snickered and leaned back against the brick wall, looking over at all of the officers and agents behind him; all ready and armed to attack. Xander wasn't a big fan of big ops...he would very much prefer to be at his desk, with paperwork...far, far away from the present danger.  
  
Spike Raleigh, on the other hand, felt exactly the opposite. This was the part of his job he lived for. The anticipation, the danger, the, well, frankly, the violence...it was unparalleled.  
  
"Bloody hell...anything yet, Summers?" He whispered, growing impatient.  
  
"Hold your horses. I think I'm getting something. His back's in the way, though." The reply came. Inside, Buffy was squirming around, trying to get the camera at an angle that could capture the crucial moment.  
  
"Buffy, you have to cough or something! Make them move!" Riley yelled, growing anxious. If they didn't get the footage...  
  
Buffy shrugged to herself and began hacking. This got their attention and the large, Russian men stared at the blonde agent. She put her hand up in an apology and focused the camera. She watched with glee as Big Russian Man #1 gave Big Russian Man #2 a bag of (obviously) illegal drugs.  
  
"The eagle's landed." She hissed.  
  
"Let's go!" Xander yelled, pounding the wall. Agents emerged from everywhere and rushed into the small coffee shop, pointing guns and surrounding the men. Buffy, who was revealing her badge to the frightened customers, ushered Riley in. He strutted over and clamped cuffs on Big Russian Man #1.  
  
"You're under arrest for..." He trailed off when he noticed Big Russian Man #2, who appeared to be choking.  
  
"I got it." Buffy said, walking over to him, apparently ready to perform the Hiemleich Maneuver.  
  
"Don't be a chit, Summers. He's obviously fakin' it." Spike said, holding his gun up to the choking Russian, whose face started to get red...then purple...  
  
"He doesn't look like he's faking to me. Here." Buffy threw down her badge and gun. She ran to the guy's side.  
  
"Buffy! Don't!" Riley yelled, glancing over from his captive.  
  
"Riley, I have to. He shouldn't die this way. It's letting him off easy." Buffy rolled up her sleeves.  
  
"Agent! I order you not to! Stay out of it!" Riley yelled, feeling his veins pulsate. She wouldn't dare go against orders...  
  
But yet, she did. Completely ignoring her boss and co-worker's warnings, Buffy reached her small arms around the man's waist and dug her fists deep into his diaphragm, with a strength that seemed impossible for a woman to possess. Buffy was not, however, strong enough for when he switched it around on her, taking out a switchblade and holding it to her neck.  
  
"Dammit!" Spike yelled, before calling for more backup.  
  
"No, that's not necessary." Riley said, walking to Spike's side as a group of agents slowly weaned Buffy out of the Russian's arms, through the threat of shooting both of them down.  
  
"Thanks a lot. It's illegal to shoot someone without reason, you know." Buffy grumbled to a random officer, as he slowly pulled her out of the scene.  
  
"Hey, you were the one who went against orders." He said before returning to cuff Mr. Choker and rattle off his rights.  
  
Buffy sighed and went to run her fingers through her hair, but, as usual, they got stuck between the knots. Frowning, she opted for running the tips of her fingers * over * her hair. She walked sheepishly over to Riley, who was congratulating Spike on his "incredible discipline." Gag me.   
  
"Buffy." He said curtly looking her up and down.  
  
"Listen, sir..."  
  
"We'll discuss this further tomorrow. Believe me, we will. But until then, just go home. We all need the rest." With that said, Riley stalked off. Buffy crossed her arms and pouted. She slugged her way over to Spike, who arched an eyebrow.  
  
"Told you he was faking." He said, simply.  
  
"Yes, thank you." Buffy sneered.  
  
"You need to learn to follow orders. It's part of your job, mate." Buffy always noticed that he called her "mate." Not "luv" or "pet" like he did the other female agents. Just "mate." Not that it bothered her, or anything. It was just an observation.  
  
"I usually do follow orders." She argued.  
  
"Yeah, but apparently, not when the shit goes down. Like in there." He jutted his thumb towards the coffee shop, which was now surrounded by official yellow police lines.  
  
"It was one time, Spike." She said, feeling exasperated already.  
  
"One time is all it takes. By the way, you look like hell." Spike sauntered off, leaving Buffy behind. She glared at his retreating, bleach-blonde head.  
  
God, she hated him...  
  
~  
  
Buffy stood in front of her mirror that night, taking a nice long look at her face. She wasn't that bad...not like the people at the office made her out to be.  
  
One guy had once said, not thinking she was there, that she didn't wax her eyebrows, she mowed them. But that wasn't true at all. Besides, she had Brooke Shields' eyebrows. And no one ever called Brooke Shields homely.  
  
Her lips were tiny, little cracks on her face, with more facial hair than necessary, but nothing TERRIBLE. Just a little upper lip hair and tiny, womanly side-burns on the side of her face. They weren't shaped or anything. Just fuzzy.  
  
She forgot what texture her hair truly was. She hadn't brushed it in months. She just wore it in pony tails, and on occasion down, like tonight, but it looked okay without brushing, so she figured, why bother?  
  
She came to the conclusion that she didn't care about looks, at all. There were much more important things in life. Besides, it wasn't as if she were trying to seduce any of her co-workers. Yeah, like she wanted to become Spike Raleigh's latest one-night-stand. I don't think so. She thought mockingly, laughing into the mirror at the very idea of getting involved with Spike.  
  
Sighing once again, she loaded her toothbrush and stuck it in her mouth. Now she had to think about what was going to happen tomorrow...  
  
~  
  
Buffy awoke to the sound of her cell-phone blaring.  
  
"What?" She whined into the mouthpiece. She shot up when she recognized the sound of her boss' voice.  
  
"Oh, good morning sir. Uh-huh. Yes. Oh, no. You're kidding. Absolutely, I'm on it. Yes, I know it's hot. Bye." She clicked the tiny "End" button and hopped out of bed. She smiled at her reflection, inwardly thanking herself for being so smart as to sleep in her suit...so she wouldn't have to get changed, naturally. She blinked out of her self praise...she had a mission.  
  
She rushed out her apartment building, waving to her landlord before slamming her car door open and taking out her siren light and placing it atop of her Buick. She started up the engine and floored it.  
  
~  
  
Buffy pushed her way through the crowd of people. She had never seen so many in her life. It was probably going to get ugly.  
  
"Hey! Watch it!" A tall, red-headed man yelled as she moved past him, "What the hell do you think you're-?" Buffy flashed him her badge.  
  
"FBI, sir. You may wanna stay outta this." He backed away, his hands in the air as if he was the criminal. Idiot.   
  
Buffy stopped at a counter and looked straight into the eyes of the person behind it, coldly, doggedly.  
  
"Alright." She whispered, emphasizing every word. "This is how it goes..." Buffy looked down, thinking for a moment, before her head shot back up again, and she rattled off in a spitfire: "Three tall regulars, black, hint of sugar, Two blue berry muffins, one with the top blue berries picked out, five Grande lattes, one with a shot of vanilla, two with sugar on the bottom..." The crowd surrounding her groaned and yelled. She shot them a look before turning back to the Starbucks employee, "One Grande cappuccino, shot of caramel...No! Wait!" Buffy felt half the people behind her leave, some who stopped to yell about government control.  
  
Party-poopers...   
  
~  
  
"Buffy, you are an ANGEL!" Xander exclaimed, grabbing his blue berry muffin and cappuccino, "And I'll even pretend that the reason you did this for all of us * isn't * just because of the little mishap last night."  
  
"Well, I couldn't go two days without following orders...that would be real loser-ish of me!!" Buffy said, laughing and snorting to herself. Xander gave her a funny look before forcing out a chuckle. Buffy sobered up, pouting.  
  
"I have my own fun."  
  
Spike sauntered over, raising his eyebrow at Buffy, before grabbing his black coffee.  
  
"Thanks, mate." He said, leaning over her to grab a blank notebook from off of her desk, "Can I use this?"  
  
"Use away." She said with a dismissive wave.  
  
"Great, thanks." Xander tensed up suddenly and gave Buffy a pat on the back.  
  
"Nice knowing you." He said, before scurrying off. I am Xander, the Amazing Conflict Avoider!   
  
"Buffy Summers!" Buffy cringed as she saw the figure of Riley Finn nearing her way.  
  
"Shoot me now." She begged Spike, "Just take my gun and shoot me. I give you permission."  
  
"Now, now, Summers. I couldn't do that. It would make me compromise my morals." He replied with a wink.  
  
"What morals?" She seethed. Spike laughed and repeated Xander's motion, walking away, only he went past Riley, instead of darting in the opposite direction.  
  
"Raleigh."  
  
"Finn." Spike said in passing, rolling his eyes. Buffy snickered a little when she head Spike mutter something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like "Goddamn Captain Cardboard bastard." She didn't know what his beef with Riley was, but there was definitely some friction between the two of them. Even when Riley showered compliments on him (which happened often), they seemed to contain some sort of hidden malice.  
  
"Summers." Riley said, facing the nervous agent at last.  
  
"Look, before you say another word, sir, I realize that I was completely out-of-line last night-"  
  
"You're damn right you were outta line. You deliberately obeyed my orders. Now, I don't know what company or corporation you've worked for in the past, but here we do not tolerate that."  
  
"I know that, sir, but-"  
  
"No buts! You are officially on probation." Buffy looked up with hurt. She messed up one time and she got put on probation? That was hardly fair. At least, she thought it was...maybe it wasn't...  
  
"What is probation exactly, sir?"  
  
"In lay terms, it means you're burying yourself under a pile of paperwork. And if you mess up two more times, you're gone. You've only got two more chances here, Summers. But hopefully, you won't be able to find a way to fuck up paperwork."  
  
Buffy nodded, taking in all of his words.  
  
"Are we clear, Buffy?"  
  
"Yes, sir." She replied, her voice hoarse. Riley nodded and patted her on the back, a la Spike and Xander. Buffy felt tears fill up her eyes. I will not cry, I will not cry... There is nothing on earth that could make my life any worse right now.   
  
"Emergency meeting everyone! We have just gotten news from D.C., there has been another citizen letter!"  
  
Except maybe * that *.   
  
~ 


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Miss Congeniality  
  
Summary: A/U.based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine.don't sue.  
  
Pairing: Spuffy...as always.  
  
~  
  
"Alright, gang. Here it is." Riley grimaced, as he handed out copies of the citizen letter...which was written as random sentences, spaced out, seemingly having no meaning, except for the sentence reading that * something * was gonna be blown up.  
  
"Now, we had a crack team on this right now, but frankly, they're stumped. So, Raleigh!" Spike jumped up from his comically drawn portrait of Riley (protruding brow and all).  
  
"Yes, sir?" He hoped his voice hadn't cracked. However, from the laugh that was playing on Summers' face, he knew it had.  
  
"I'm putting you in charge of this operation. Get a group of men together and start immediately. Meeting's over. Go back to work." Riley waved them on. Spike sat there slack-jawed before Xander nudged him.  
  
"Oh! Sir! Finn!" Spike yelled, rushing over, "Why? I mean..." He searched his employers face, looking for something.  
  
"Because you've wanted one for years and last night, you earned it." Riley said, clamping Spike's shoulder, harder than a friendly clamp. Spike knew that Riley wanted him gone, and Riley knew that Spike knew. It was a mutual, unspoken hate. But that didn't stop them from being respectful to each other in the office and it didn't stop Riley from treating Spike fairly. Spike was good. He knew it. Spike knew it too. It was most likely Raleigh's greatest downfall...his cockiness.  
  
"Good luck." Riley said cheerfully, "You're gonna need it." He muttered under his breath.  
  
"Hate that bloke." Spike said, turning to Xander and Buffy.  
  
"Why? He just put you in charge of an op. I'd kill for that." Buffy replied, looking wistful.  
  
"Well, ya blew any chance of that last night." Spike snapped, but then sighed, "Look, Summers, I'm sorry. But just because he gives me a job to do doesn't mean I have to bloody well * like * him, does it?"  
  
"No one * likes * Riley." Xander commented, "That goes without saying. I mean, he looks like the Incredible Hulk, has, like, ten goldfish all named Harry, and listens to Yanni." Buffy chuckled at this and yawned.  
  
"Time to go back to the abyss...dreaded paperwork." She said with an eye roll, walking away from her colleagues. She sat down at her desk and took out some case files. However, the citizen letter, sitting on her desk was taunting her. Looking back and forth to check for Riley, she grabbed it and read it over again. And again. And again.  
  
"Dammit..." She whispered, a feeling of frustration overtaking her. She needed to get out, to clear her head, if she wanted to understand this in even the slightest way.  
  
~  
  
"Gimme a pint, Ike." Buffy said, slapping her hand down on the bar counter. Ike, the bartender, looked down at his watch.  
  
"At 2:30? Are you sure?"  
  
"Oh, yeah." Sighing, Ike reached into the mini-fridge and handed her a pint of Ben & Jerry's Phish Food.  
  
"Ooh! Yeah! Chocolately goodness..." Buffy laughed as she pulled out two, tiny fish shaped pieces of chocolate, "Now I get the name! Hello, Mr. Fishy!" She pointed their heads towards one another and proceeded to have them talk to one another.  
  
"Oh! I love you! No, I love you more! Muah! Muah!" She banged them together and made them kiss each other, "Hey! What's that? It's a giant coming to eat us!!" Buffy threw them into her mouth, "Haha! I am pure evil!" She froze, though, when she heard a deep cough from behind her. She spun around sheepishly and gave Spike a little, embarrassed wave, who replied with his customary eyebrow raise.  
  
"Summers, are you on drugs?"  
  
"More like under stress." She said, patting the seat next to her.  
  
"Brewsky, thanks." Buffy looked over Spike's shoulder to see a bubbly, dumb- blonde sexppot, "What would you like, luv?" Spike asked the woman.  
  
"Cosmopolitan, please." Spike turned back to Ike.  
  
"You heard the woman. Oh, Summers, forgive me. This is Harmony, an intern. She's very interested in women in the FBI, which is what you are...in a technical sense anyway." Buffy glared at him for a moment and then stuck her hand out to Harmony, who promptly ignored her.  
  
"Wow...so, is this, like, where most of the agents hangout during their down time?" She asked, her coy, flighty voice pricking Buffy's nerves.  
  
"A lot do, yeah. 'Cept for the ones who think they're too good for us all." Spike said, thinking pointedly of his boss.  
  
"So." Harmony said tersely, "You're, like, a woman agent. Is that your uniform?" Buffy looked down at her crumpled suit and shrugged.  
  
"We have a dress code, not a "uniform" per say."  
  
"Right. So, is it part of the dress code to wear those really masculine shoes?" Harmony asked, her voice lacking in any malice. Spike hid a laugh through a forced cough. Buffy slowly rolled her tongue over her teeth and looked down at her shoes.  
  
"Oh, no. They're from my own collection." Buffy said, her voice not exactly lacking in malice.  
  
"Right..." Harmony said, losing interest immediately, "Spikey's been so nice showing me around. We're meeting for a dinner tonight in order to discuss my future career goals." Harmony said, feeling proud of herself, "He, like, totally takes me seriously."  
  
"I'll bet he does." She said, casting a lingering glare at Spike, who made a smart-assed "What?" face, "I'm sure I'll see you sometime in the near future around the office. And I'll definitely see * you * tomorrow." She added, looking at Spike, who gave her a wave. She clumped her way out of the bar and stepped into the sunlight. She had to get back to work. Back to my *paper* work. She thought with an inward moan. Poop.   
  
~  
  
The next day, Buffy was thrilled. She raced into the office, screaming for Spike.  
  
"Spike! Spike! I've got it! I've got it!" He gave her the eyebrow raise when she threw her copy of the citizen letter his way, which was covered in notes, "It took me so long to figure it out, but I've got it!"  
  
"Summers..." Spike started.  
  
"No, no. Let me finish. All of these words stand for the states, right?"  
  
"Summers, it's the Miss United-" Spike began, but was quickly cut off again by an unfocused Buffy.  
  
"And if they stand for the states, I thought it was Congress at first, but then all of these words are scrambled adjectives that are synonyms for beauty..."  
  
"Summers, it's the page-"  
  
"...and the Alamo is mentioned, and after research I figured it out! It's the Miss United States Pageant!" She exclaimed, feeling triumphant. In your face, Foreigner!   
  
"Thank you, Summers." Spike replied, barely concealing the sarcasm in his voice, "Now that information has been * repeated *, let's get to work, men." Spike looked back and forth between his crew: Xander Harris, Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, Graham Miller, and Forrest Gates. Nodding, he pointed them to their station, which happened to ride up right against Buffy's cubicle.  
  
"What the hell are you doing? Your cubicle is on the * second * floor." Buffy said, flipping around, annoyed.  
  
"Yeah, but if I can't enjoy the pleasure of rubbing my successes in your face, what's the point?" Spike replied with a smirk.  
  
"Jackass."  
  
"Bitch."  
  
"Witness the maturity, ladies and gentlemen." Xander announced, extending his hand in Buffy and Spike's direction.  
  
"Right, then. What we need is a way to protect the girls."  
  
"How many languages can you say 'Duh' in?" Xander asked to no one in particular.  
  
"Five, I think." Oz deadpanned.  
  
"Do I have to remind you that I'm now your superior?" Spike asked, folding his arms.  
  
"Sorry, * boss *." Xander said, nudging Oz secretly. Graham cleared his throat.  
  
"Maybe we need a mole." Buffy shook her head.  
  
"You're not infiltrating Iraqi headquarters, Miller. What you guys need is cooperation from the pageant officials." She said, looking at Spike.  
  
"Yeah! Yeah! Cooperation, that's what we need. Write that down!" He barked to Forrest.  
  
"You might also want to do some backup research so you can fully understand the way the pageant works."  
  
"Yup, research, gotta have that, too." He nodded to Forrest who scribbled it down.  
  
"And maybe you'd want to send someone in undercover. As a contestant, so there's an easier way to keep the girls safe." She said, giving her final suggestion.  
  
"We need to send someone in undercover. And I've got just the girl..."  
  
~  
  
Spike typed a few keywords into the FBI database and leaned back, allowing the men surrounding him to ogle the gorgeous brunette he had pulled up.  
  
"DAMN!" Xander exclaimed, "She works here?"  
  
"Sure does." Spike replied, laughing lightly. He knew his keen sense of noticing beautiful women would pay off someday...  
  
"Houston," Buffy said, pointing at her miscellaneous info, "We have a problem."  
  
"What is it with you and NASA quotes?" Spike asked, genuinely curious.  
  
"Just read." So, Spike read.  
  
"Enjoys bubble-baths. You're right. She's too hardcore for this job. Better find someone else."  
  
"Farther than that, dork." She said, pointing to "Current Status."  
  
"Maternity leave..." Spike read, shutting his eyes dramatically, "Fuck."  
  
"Looks like she's not gonna be competing in any pageants...not unless it was the Miss Lamaze Pageant." Buffy said with a squeak, a laugh, and a hearty snort, "Get it? The Miss Lamaze Pageant..." She cleared her throat and sat back down.  
  
"Great. Now who in the bloody hell are we gonna get to be a contestant in this damn thing?"  
  
"We could always recruit Riley..." Oz said, in his usual deadpan manner, "He's somewhat womanly."  
  
Spike considered this for a moment, but then shook his head.  
  
"Nah, his arms are too big. Who else we got?"  
  
"That new intern was pretty hot." Graham commented.  
  
"Hello? Keyword there is 'intern.'" Buffy reminded them, "There's no way she's ready for an assignment this big."  
  
"She's right." Spike agreed reluctantly, "We'll have to search the databases."  
  
Search.For: Agents + 24-26 + female + Undercover Experience  
  
Three Agents came up.  
  
"Let's see who we got...Summers, yeah right, umm...Charlotte Knafo. That's a possibility. And Maternity Leave."  
  
"Click on Knafo." Forrest suggested. They all took a look at the woman.  
  
"Here." Oz said, leaning over, "I got this." He went online and went to the "Dress up Barbie" site, "My niece does this all the time." Moving his fingers swiftly along the keyboard, he was able to upload one of Barbie's bathing suits, and put it on Knafo.  
  
The results were average, but nothing too thrilling.  
  
"Looks like she's the best we got" Xander said, nodding.  
  
"We'll need some extra fixing from the judges if we want her to win, though." Graham commented, feeling a little sick. People were not going to buy into this girl.  
  
"Hey, just for curiosity's sake..." Forrest said, clicking on Buffy's name.  
  
"Oh, come on!" Buffy yelled, trying to stop them by grabbing the mouse, which was, unfortunately, intercepted by Oz.  
  
"Upload." Oz said, with an apologetic look to Buffy.  
  
"Come on, Summers. It's research." Spike said, trying to hide a laugh. This should be good...   
  
What Spike didn't expect was exactly how good it would be. It would be an understatement to say he was taken aback when he saw Summers in a bathing suit. Her legs were long, trim, and naturally tanned, her waist thin and slender. Her breasts, well...he couldn't even begin to comment on those. Besides, it was still Summers they were looking at. He had a certain standard to uphold. But those legs...  
  
"Alright, you guys have had your fun, now click out of it."  
  
"Now wait just a second, mate. This isn't bad." Spike said, motioning to the screen, pretending to be completely unaffected. Did someone turn on the bloody heat or something?   
  
"Yeah, well, take a good, long look at it cuz that's the last time any of you will ever see that, okay?" Despite the protests of the agents surrounding her, Buffy closed out of the database.  
  
"Summers!" Buffy turned around and faced Riley, who was yelling (again) "Aren't you supposed to be doing work, right now?"  
  
"I'm taking my lunch break, sir." She lied fluidly.  
  
"Well, it's over now. Move it. Hello, Raleigh." Riley nodded in acknowledgment to Spike.  
  
"Deushbag." Spike muttered.  
  
"What?" Riley spun around.  
  
"I coughed." Spike said with a bright smile. He "coughed" again, this time a cough that sounded suspiciously like "Jerk-off". Riley eyed him suspiciously, but accepted his story and moved on.  
  
"Idiot." Spike laughed to Xander.  
  
"Treading on thin ice, my man. Thin ice." Xander replied, shaking his head. He admired Spike's fearlessness, even if most of his risks were unreasonable. Spike sighed.  
  
"I should probably follow him, though."  
  
"Why?" Xander asked, perplexed.  
  
"Gotta talk to him about a certain girl." Spike nodded in Buffy's direction, just imagining her reaction when he told her what her newest assignment was going to be.  
  
This is going be * neat *...   
  
~ 


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Miss Congeniality  
  
Summary: A/U...based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.  
  
Pairing: Spuffy...as always.  
  
A/N: If you are reading this for the first time (this chap) I mean, you won't understand this, but I needed to fix one of Giles' quotes, which claims he taught a deaf-MUTE to sing, when I had meant to put a deaf- BLIND...which is why I'm gonna start sending these chaps to my Beta, too, from now on. Thanks! ~ "Gah!! No! No! No! No! And an extra "NO!" for good measure!" Buffy yelled at Spike, who was sitting by her desk, laughing annoyingly.  
  
"Really, Summers, I thought you'd be pleased. 'Sides, it ain't your choice."  
  
"It ain't my choice? I'm sorry, when did we relocate to a dude ranch?" Buffy asked, sarcasm dripping from her lips.  
  
"Hey! "Ain't" happens to be a perfectly acceptable word in England...wait a minute, you're just trying to get me off topic!" Spike pointed out accusingly.  
  
"Damn, I hoped ya wouldn't pick up on that. Look, it just...it isn't my deal, okay?"  
  
"You're "deal," as you so aptly put it, is your job. No one ever said working for the FBI would be all cream and cupcakes -"  
  
"No shit."  
  
"...and sometimes ya gotta do what ya gotta do." Spike finished, giving Buffy a pity glance, "Now get off your ass, we have a meeting with the pageant coordinators."  
  
"Do I gotta wear the bathing suit?" Buffy whined as Spike grabbed her hands and pulled her up.  
  
"Yes, you * have * to wear the bathing suit." Spike replied, more or less yanking Buffy out of the office.  
  
~  
  
"Ah! Hello..." Margaret Walsh, former Miss America, pageant host and planner, devoted mother and wife, not to mention a model citizen, cocked her head condescendingly at the strange people sitting in her office. One was a relatively good looking fellow, with god-awful hair, however. The other...well, she couldn't even bear to describe * that * creature, "May I ask what this is about?"  
  
"Well, you see, Ms. Walsh..."  
  
"Oh, you can call her Maggie! Everybody does." Said Clement Longbower, a funny looking man, with many wrinkles (he had lost weight over the past summer and being as old as he was his skin had lost its...elasticity.) In spite of his physical appearance, however, he was easily one of the most charismatic people...even when in front of the unflattering television cameras, "As for me, I'm Clem!"  
  
"Now the problem would be what, exactly?" Maggie said, cutting her partner off.  
  
"Someone has sent us a bomb-threat indicating your pageant will be...well, "blown to smithereens" is the term they used." Buffy said, fully aware of the woman's disapproving gaze.  
  
"Oh, my." She said, sitting back, "Now what do the two of you propose to do about it?"  
  
"Well, actually, Spike is in charge of a team of agents who will be on 24/7 ensuring the safety of the girls."  
  
"And how are you going to do that? I really wouldn't like to see those girls get blown up. Especially without their knowledge." Clem commented, rather dumbly. Maggie rolled her eyes.  
  
"Well, what we're planning on doing is sending in an agent as one of the contestants." Spike explained, "Of course, we'll need some of your help with the judging to ensure that she reaches the top 5."  
  
"Absolutely not!" Maggie screamed. How dare they even think of...   
  
"Listen, ma'am, I know that you care a lot about your little beauty pageant here..." Buffy said, leaning forward.  
  
"It is not a beauty pageant. It's a scholarship program!" Maggie hissed.  
  
"Whatever. But listen, all we want is the girl's safety. And to do that we need to supplant one of your girls with an agent." Buffy said, hoping her face looked reluctant, when honestly she couldn't care one way or the other if the precious pageant lost its "integrity" for a moment.  
  
"But which girl? All of the contestants have been selected already." Clem said, scratching his long forehead. Spike scrunched his eyebrows...he hadn't thought of that either.  
  
"Au contraire. Through * my * diligent research," Buffy said, sending a pointed look in Spike's direction, "I have discovered that Miss New Jersey was part of an independent film entitled 'Arma-Get-It-On.'" Buffy explained with a snort of laughter.  
  
"Was that her?" Spike asked, surprised. Buffy gave him a death glare before turning back to Maggie.  
  
"Fine." Maggie said shortly, "Who do you have in mind?" Buffy cleared her throat and raised her hand. Maggie backed up in obvious disgust and sighed, looking through her address book.  
  
"Let me get you Rupert Giles' number..." She said, still casting a wary eye towards Buffy.  
  
"And who would that be?" Spike asked.  
  
"A pageant consultant. He * might * be able to, uh, clean her up." ~  
  
"I so do not see the point of this." Buffy complained, walking with Spike on their way to meet the elusive Mr. Giles.  
  
"Meeting this guy? Summers, be serious. You need a pageant consultation to help...I mean, to...So that you know...Uh..." Spike flustered.  
  
"Spike. I own a mirror. I know what I look like." Buffy said, placing her hand on his shoulder, "I just don't care."  
  
"And that's what this Giles guy is gonna help you with! Caring about the way you look! And speak and act..." Spike said, glad to have found a valid reason without having to call her downright ugly.  
  
"How I act and speak? What is this gonna be, "The Art of Bimboism 101?" Thanks, but no thanks." Buffy said, beginning to turn around.  
  
"Hey!" Spike said, grabbing her arm, "Do you wanna get fired or somethin'? We're meeting Giles, he's gonna make you a knock-out, then you're gonna save the bloody pageant and we'll all celebrate and pick dandelions, ya got it?"  
  
"Please! I know what this is, alright? This is Riley's punishment for me!" Spike laughed.  
  
"Punishment? Do you realize how much arm-twistin' it took for me to get him to allow you on this op? Like or not, mate, you screwed up."  
  
"Well, I don't want it." Buffy said stubbornly, crossing her arms. Spike clenched his fists and snapped his eyes shut.  
  
"Listen, Summers...the team needs you. * I * need you. This is my first op and I'll be damned if I let some stubborn headcase ruin it just because she thinks she's too bloody good to be in a beauty pageant. Now move your ass or I will."  
  
Buffy's eyes widened as she listened to Spike's whispered fury and threats. Nodding her head, she moved forward. Spike trailed her, pulling out a cigarette. They were almost there.  
  
~  
  
Rupert Giles looked up to see a stunning beauty. Perhaps this will be easier than I thought...   
  
However, she sat down at a table three away from his.  
  
So close, and yet, so far.   
  
He glanced up once again to see a mix-matched pair walk in, one a cocky- looking, handsome bleach-blonde, and the other... a complete and utter mess. Giles shook his head and muttered about how unkept some people were and about taking pride in oneself, when he noticed that the pair was standing before him. His eyes widened in blatant abhorrence.  
  
"If you are Buffy Summers, I quit now." Buffy laughed, self-conscious for the first time in, well, ever.  
  
"Yeah...I know, I'm having a bad hair day." She smiled. Giles stared in nausea at the beer and food stains which were laden upon yellowed enamel, "Or a bad hair decade."  
  
"Please, sit down..." Giles said, motioning to the other chair. Spike patted her on the back.  
  
"Well, Summers, I'm outta here. Nice meetin' ya." He said, extending his hand to Giles.  
  
"Certainly." He replied flippantly. Buffy looked up and mouthed 'Don't leave me' to Spike, who just raised his eyebrow and walked out of the restaurant. Giles sat, unsure of what to say, was, thankfully, saved by the waiter.  
  
"May I take your order?" He asked politely.  
  
"Damn! You're a little Speedy Gonzalez there aren't ya?" Buffy joked, laughing, until she looked at Giles' unamused face, "But, I'll start with a salad and then have a steak, well-done, with A1 sauce, but not if it's the unspicy kind. I need my steak sauce to be really hot."  
  
"Dressing for your salad? We have raspberry vinaigrette and Caesar." Buffy considered this.  
  
"Got any Ranch?"  
  
"Dear Lord..." Giles muttered.  
  
"No, I'm afraid not, ma'am." Buffy pouted.  
  
"Shit...uh, then...no salad for me." The waiter nodded, scratching off her salad order.  
  
"And for you, sir?" Giles resisted the urge to bury his head inside his hands.  
  
"Just an ice water and some Tums, thank you." The waiter nodded understandingly and walked off. Buffy drummed her fingers on the table and pursed her lips. Giles reached over and slammed his hand atop of hers.  
  
"Shit. Ow." She said, pulling them out from underneath.  
  
"No tapping."  
  
"Yeah, yeah, okay."  
  
"Yes." Giles said curtly.  
  
"Yeah, okay." Buffy repeated.  
  
"Yes! It is always 'Yes' never 'Yeah.'" Buffy rolled her eyes and began tapping her fingers again, staring smugly at Giles.  
  
"Do you have any idea who I am?" He exclaimed, grabbing her fingers once again.  
  
" * Besides * a pain in my ass..."  
  
"I was once the most sought after pageant consultant. Girls begged me to prepare them. I dealt with some of the most severe cases, from Gothics who wanted a change to a deaf-blind. Every year my girls won. And though you are an FBI agent, I still expect you to win because I've never lost." Giles said, proudly. His face fell, though, when he took another look at her again, "However, none of girls have ever been quite so...apeish, before."  
  
"What the hell is your problem?"  
  
"Five!" Giles exclaimed.  
  
"Your problem is the number five?"  
  
"No, I meant that that is the fifth time since you came in here that you have used an expletive."  
  
"Oh my freakin' God...has anyone ever told you that you are extremely anal retentive?" Buffy asked, slamming her hands onto the table, "You're probably the type who yells at people for having their elbows on the table."  
  
"No, that would be in the * second * lesson." Giles deadpanned.  
  
"Fuck you!"  
  
"Six! And I think I'll even count that one as double..."  
  
"I'm leaving, I don't need to put up with this bull- with this bull." Giles leaped up.  
  
"See! I'm already changing you! You held back just after spending less than five minutes with me! I'm what you need." Buffy spun around and glared at the man.  
  
"Fine. Tell me. If you're so high in demand, why don't you have some little Dixie cowgirl to coach. Why are you helping an FBI agent who has no place in the Miss America pageant?" Giles sat back down, gravely.  
  
"Remember the deaf blind I told you about? Well, I had coached her on how to sing. It took months, days, hours upon hours of sweat, blood and tears. She won, though, obviously. Because I taught her how to sing and I made her the most beautiful girl there ever quite was. Afterwards, in interviews, she panned me, calling me a slave-driver, through her interpreter of course. Then, nobody wanted me." Buffy felt a pang of pity when she took in Giles' kicked-puppy look.  
  
"Why would Walsh suggest you, then?"  
  
"Because, I am the best." Giles replied, with an arrogant tone. Buffy cocked her eyebrow a la Spike.  
  
"Or perhaps, because all of the other consultants have contestants already." Buffy accepted this and sat back down.  
  
"Alright, pal...teach away."  
  
~  
  
"Is that how you always dress?" Giles asked, as he and Buffy walked down the street.  
  
"I'm a federal agent, Giles." Buffy said, hoping that would be all the explanation needed.  
  
"That doesn't mean you can't dress neatly outside of the office, or even in the office. Why, I once met a man with a mullet named Willy Jack who had a better fashion sense than you."  
  
"Doubtful." Buffy said, curling her lip.  
  
"Yes, you're right. That was an exaggeration. But only because I do not associate with people who have mullets!"  
  
"And I thought Spike was arrogant." Buffy commented incredulously. "Well, look how far it's gotten me."  
  
"Yup, bankrupt and coaching a fake contestant. Really livin' the good life there, aren't ya?" Giles glared at Buffy.  
  
"Now, we also have to do something about that walk."  
  
"My walk is fine, thank you." Giles shook his head vigorously and stopped her.  
  
"Watch me." Giles walked down the sidewalk, sashaying his hips and waving his hands about in the air gracefully. He yelled back to Buffy,  
  
"See? This is what you must do. You must glide, watch. Don't I look pretty?"  
  
"Takes a real secure man to walk like that." She ran over to him and moved along, not letting her feet come up from off the ground.  
  
"Now, glide...glide...Come now, it's not the bloody ice capades. Now glide, lift your feet a little...not that much...you're not in a marching band, Buffy, glide. Move your hips." A guy on a bike zoomed past the odd pair knocking Buffy off of her balance. She jumped up.  
  
"Hey! I was gliding here! Asshole..."  
  
~  
  
Buffy walked into her virtually empty office building, exhausted from the long day with Giles. Slumping down into her chair, she looked at the stack of papers sitting on her desk, along with a note from Riley, stating that she could give all the extra work to Parker Abrams, a rookie, while she was on the op. She sighed happily and sat back, letting the past few days wash over her.  
  
"Summers." She smiled despite herself at the sound of Spike's voice. He wasn't always her favorite person, but at the same time, he always made for interesting conversation.  
  
"How was Art of Bimboism?" Spike asked, after raising his eyebrow at her, as always. Buffy chuckled.  
  
"I learned how to glide." She offered. Spike smirked and pulled up a chair to sit by her.  
  
"Hey," He said suddenly, "I'm sorry about the stuff I said to you out there. I didn't mean it. Honestly, I don't blame you for hatin' this. I probably would, too, in your place."  
  
"I know."  
  
"It's just...I really need ya here, mate."  
  
"I know." Buffy reiterated.  
  
"So, what? You still mad at me?"  
  
"I was never mad at you. I didn't blame you for getting upset. My leaving would've screwed up everything."  
  
"Gettin a little cocky there, Summers." Spike joked.  
  
"You must be rubbing off on me." She spat back playfully. Spike laughed and stretched out.  
  
"Finn has been on my ass ever since this thing started. I swear, he thinks I'm gonna screw it all up...and that would give him fair reason to fire me." He said with a shake of his head.  
  
"What is the deal between you guys? I mean, Riley isn't my best friend or anything, but you seem like you really hate him."  
  
"Cuz I do really hate him. Bloody bastard." Spike said, wishing this topic hadn't been brought up.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"It's getting late, Summers. I oughta go. See ya tomorrow, 5 o' clock sharp, at LA International, alright?" Spike said, standing up.  
  
"Huh? What for?" Buffy asked.  
  
"We're flyin' out to the good ol' Lonestar state. Giles is gonna supervise your makeover and then it's time for the preliminaries." Buffy nodded and waved to him as he walked out. She scrunched her nose as she realized she was feeling...disappointment? Cuz Spike left?  
  
Must've been something in that steak sauce...   
  
~ 


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Miss Congeniality  
  
Summary: A/U...based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.  
  
Pairing: Spuffy...as always.  
  
~  
  
"Glxxnghxx!" Buffy snored away, sitting next to Giles on the compact commuter plane to Texas.  
  
"GLXXNGHAAXXXXX!" In her sleep, she flung her arm around Giles' waist.  
  
"Alright, wake up time, now." He muttered, slapping her face lightly.  
  
"Mmm..." Buffy stretched herself awake, "We there yet?"  
  
"About 15 minutes. However, I could not bear one more moment of your incessant snoring. You must do something about that."  
  
"That's your job, pal." Buffy said with a yawn. She looked around for something to eat...she was starving.  
  
"Where are the, uh, flight attendants?" She asked, craning her neck.  
  
"Sorry, Summers," The seat in front of her said, "But this is a commuter. No flight attendants, no food." Spike spun around and raised his eyebrow, "Must be hell for you."  
  
"Shut it." Buffy said, holding her stomach, "So, what's the first stop?"  
  
"Beauty warehouse which, incidentally, cost me thousands of dollars to put in place." Giles said, rubbing his temples.  
  
"Oh, right. For my super-makeover." Buffy said, widening her eyes and bobbing her head around, "Will you teach me how to cry, too? For when I'm selected as the top 5, I mean." Buffy pretended to wipe away a tear and sniffed, "Oh, if I only had a brain!" Spike smirked and was about to laugh when he caught view of Giles' face. He decided to turn around and just pretend he hadn't seen Buffy at all.  
  
"You also need to learn some respect for these girls if you ever want to-" Giles began.  
  
"Respect?" Buffy gawaffed, "Respect for what? For girls whose lives revolve around making sure they look pretty for the camera? Sorry, but that's not my idea of a respectable female. It's like the goddamn feminist movement never happened."  
  
Giles stewed in his anger for a few moments before stealing a glance at his latest project, for the hundred and ninth time since they boarded the plane. If he wanted her to be ready, at all, for the preliminaries, he would need nothing short of a miracle...  
  
~  
  
"OW!" Buffy screamed, as the waxist yanked off the first layer of eyebrow hair.  
  
"May I ask you a question? Exactly how many times in your life have cleaned up those monstrosities?" Giles asked, looking over the waxing table, as five people brushed her hair, another two gave her a manicure, seven shaved, waxed, and smoothed her legs, and a team of high specialized dentists cleaned her teeth.  
  
"Um, never?" Buffy offered through the clanking of metal inside her mouth.  
  
"Look at my surprised face." Giles said, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Jerk." She muttered, "Ow! Geez! Could I get up anesthesia or something?"  
  
~  
  
"Hey, Giles." Spike tapped the older Brit on the shoulder, "How she doin' ?"  
  
"How many different world religions are there?" Giles asked, answering Spike's question with a question. Spike shrugged and cocked his head expectantly.  
  
"Well, pray to ALL of their gods."  
  
~  
  
"Here ya go, Summers." Spike leaned down and handed her a tiny ear piece, as she sat, her hair foiled and her face green from a facial. "Microphone, tiny camera," He gave her an American flag pin, "and your pageant registration and new license."  
  
"Buffy Anne Summers." She read, "You didn't change my name?"  
  
"Didn't have to. You were given, at birth, the best bloody pageant name in the lot. Your mum must be some sort of a clairvoyant." Buffy tried to kick him in the shins, but Spike easily dodged it.  
  
"Beat me up later, mate. For now, focus on lookin' gorgeous." Spike smirked and walked away.  
  
"I can't decide who's the bigger jerk...you or Giles!" She yelled.  
  
~  
  
Spike, Xander, Oz, Graham, and Forrest leaned up against the Bureau's car. Xander sighed and looked down at his watch...it was nearing 8:00 a.m. They had been up since 5:00 a.m. the previous morning.  
  
"Need. Sleep." He mumbled, looking straight at Spike.  
  
"We all do, mate. Summers should be outta there in, 5 to 10 minutes is what Giles said."  
  
"A half hour ago!" Xander complained.  
  
"Be patient, man." Oz said, strangely serene.  
  
"It is getting a little ridiculous." Forrest said, looking at his watch, "I don't even want to know how many hours we've been here."  
  
"Yeah, yeah..." Spike commented, taking another drag on his cigarette.  
  
Suddenly, the doors opened. Giles walked out, followed by the technicians, all walking in a wall, as though they were concealing something. Giles had an odd sort of smile on his face, one that seemed genuine and not sardonic. Spike walked over and put out his hands expectantly.  
  
"Mr. Raleigh, may I present to you, Miss Buffy Anne Summers, pageant contestant from the Garden State of New Jersey." Giles whispered, pride in himself saturating the words. He stepped away and clapped his hands. The wall broke and all that was left standing was a girl.  
  
Spike's eyes widened and he dropped his cigarette.  
  
The girl in front of him was * not * Summers.  
  
The girl in front of him was wearing a yellow sun dress, with long, silky ringlets of bright, magical blonde hair falling around her bronze shoulders.  
  
The girl in front of him had smooth, pouty lips that were slicked with gloss.  
  
The girl in front of him had perfectly arched eyebrows, which were cocked atop of round, luminous green eyes.  
  
The girl in front of him smiled shyly, only to reveal whiter than white teeth.  
  
Her legs were smooth and strong.  
  
Her waist was thin.  
  
Her arms were toned.  
  
And every contour of her skin was deeply tanned...in a way that Spike knew one could not get from a tanning booth.  
  
"Summers..." Spike whispered, trailing off. He was vaguely aware of his blue eyes moving up and down her, but he didn't care if he was making her uncomfortable. It was taking all of his self-control not to grab and shag her right in front of all these people.  
  
"God, would you stop staring?" She finally said, breaking Spike out of his shell shock, "I'm so not in the mood. Hiya Xander." She said, giving her friend a wave, who she noticed was more or less drooling. She would be lying if she had said it didn't make her feel slightly good about herself.  
  
"Yeah." Oz coughed, "That's her."  
  
Spike blinked again and smirked.  
  
"Just a little surprised is all. Didn't think you could clean up the way you did." He laughed, "Guess I was wrong. Ya look alright."  
  
"Uh-huh." Buffy said, grabbing her heel, not really listening. She was supposed to actually * walk * in these things?  
  
Apparently. She thought as Giles gave her a little push forward. She took one step, however, and crashed onto the floor.  
  
"Bloody hell, Summers, are you alright?" Spike ran over and offered his hand. Buffy glowered at him for a minute and forced herself up.  
  
"I'm fine." She spat out, running her fingers through her hair.  
  
"I second that notion." Xander whispered to Spike, nodding toward Buffy's ass as she walked away. Spike quirked his lips and raised his eyebrows in admiration. Shaking his head, Spike turned around.  
  
"Alright, men! Time to enter Operation Thong!"  
  
~ Buffy exited the car, wearing a pink and white three-piece suit.  
  
Hi! I'm the official Office Fun Barbie!   
  
Giles smiled at his project and whispered into her ear.  
  
"Try not to speak." Buffy squinted her eyes in confusion until she noticed Maggie Walsh walking their way, followed by an extremely tall, extremely buff body-guard. Happy, happy, joy, joy   
  
"Miss Walsh!" Giles exclaimed, feigning happiness, "You look radiant. Hello, Adam." The body-guard nodded and grunted a hello.  
  
"Well, well." Maggie said, after greeting Giles, as she circled Buffy, "Miss Summers, I hardly recognized you. Very nice work, Rupert. Now, the bus which will carry you to the reception hall is right over there. Now scoot!" So, Buffy scooted, picking up her pace.  
  
"Summers, can ya hear me?"  
  
"Unfortunately." Buffy whispered to Spike.  
  
"Great. Now, we'll be watching everything and if we see anything suspic-"  
  
"I know how this works, genius."  
  
"Look, the Finn-Bastard called to tell me to tell you that you are not, under any bloody circumstances, to do anything without my okay, ya hear?" Buffy sighed and nodded, before remembering that Spike couldn't see her.  
  
"I hear."  
  
~  
  
Buffy entered the Barbie-mobile, feeling somewhat sick. She felt like how she felt the one time in high school where almost all of the tables were filled, except for a tiny spot at the end of the popular table.  
  
She stepped slowly down the hall, hoping not to be noticed.  
  
But she needed somewhere to sit.  
  
The only spot available, it seemed, was next to a red-head, who was staring out the window as though she wished she were anywhere but here.  
  
"Uh, Excuse me? Is this seat taken?" Buffy asked.  
  
"Why? I mean, hi! Um, sure. You can sit there." The girl said, smiling.  
  
"I'm Willow. Willow Rosenberg, um, from Rhode Island." She said, smiling.  
  
"Oh! I'm Buffy Summers, from New Jersey!!!" Buffy yelled cheerfully.  
  
"Relax, Summers." Spike's voice soothed from inside her ear.  
  
"Gee, you're pretty proud of your state. That's cool, because I am, too." Willow replied with an accepting smile. Buffy smiled back, genuinely, despite herself.  
  
"So, what part of New Jersey are you from?" Willow asked, curiously.  
  
"Ummm..." Shit. "Near Trenton."  
  
"Oh, that's neat! I have an uncle who lives in Trenton."  
  
"Cool. What about you, where in Rhode Island?" Buffy asked, faking curiosity.  
  
"Oh, I'm not allowed to say. My mother says that you never know who's a pedophile! Not that I think you're a pedophile..."  
  
"Forget it." Buffy said with a smile.  
  
"I'm so nervous!" Willow burst out, "I only competed in Rhode Island's pageant on a dare! Now, look at me. Of course, for this, I had to get a consultant. Who's yours?"  
  
"Rupert Giles." Willow's eyes widened.  
  
"Didn't he attack a deaf-blind girl?"  
  
"What? No!" Buffy exclaimed, before pursing her lips, "I don't think."  
  
"I did not!" Giles' voice rang through her ear. Buffy made a mental note to ask Spike to not allow him in the surveillance room.  
  
"But most likely not. He seems like an...okay guy." Buffy said, smiling sweetly.  
  
"Yeah. Isn't Miss Walsh gorgeous?" Willow asked, staring at the former Miss America, "I'll never be as pretty as she is."  
  
"Don't sell yourself short." Buffy said with a smile.  
  
"That's it Summers, get some camaraderie with the girls." Buffy perked her eyebrows up.  
  
"Hey! This is really off-topic, but don't you just hate it when guys keep yapping in your ear even when it's completely unneccassary?"  
  
"Cute, Summers. Real bloody cute."  
  
Willow laughed sadly.  
  
"I wish I could hate it. But I don't talk to many people of the opposite sex. I really have never dated either. Not like I'm sure you have." Buffy ignored the prick on her heart.  
  
"Yeah, well, that's okay. Your time will come." Buffy said, patting Willow's hand awkwardly.  
  
"I've never said this much to anyone I just met before in my life!" Willow exclaimed, before smiling at Buffy, "Do you wanna be best friends?" Ugh.   
  
"Okay! Great! Wow! Best friends!" Buffy exclaimed, happily.  
  
"Yay!"  
  
~  
  
"Now entering Barbie- * town *" Spike heard Buffy whisper. He smiled, but replied sarcastically.  
  
"The Barbie thing's getting old, Summers."  
  
"But it's fun." She pouted softly. He shut his eyes, trying to forget the way he felt when he saw her. Or heard her, whatever the case may be. It just wasn't healthy.  
  
Meanwhile, Buffy sat down at the table, surrounded by pageant contestants.  
  
"Oh! Hi everyone! This is Buffy Summers, from New Jersey. Buffy, this is Faith Morgan from Massachusetts..."  
  
"Hey there, B." Faith said with a nod.  
  
"Anya Jenkins from Pennsylvania..."  
  
"Hello neighbor!" Anya said cheerfully and precisely.  
  
"Cordelia Chase from California..."  
  
"Hello." Cordelia replied, eyeing Buffy warily.  
  
"...and Tara Maclay from Montana." Willow finished. The last, blonde girl gave a small wave before turning back to her food. Cordelia cleared her throat.  
  
"I just wanna say that I believe what the sign on the Alamo Dome says. We * are * all winners."  
  
"No, we're not." Anya said, suddenly. The whole table turned around and stared incredulously at the girl, "Well, we aren't. Only one of us will be a winner. The rest will be losers with nothing else to gain. No one remembers the 49th, 15th, or 1st runner up."  
  
"It's called an expression, Pennsy. Look into it." Cordelia said, snarling her lip.  
  
"No thank you. I have better things to do with my time."  
  
"Hey, question!" Buffy said, suddenly, "You live in California, right?" Cordelia gave Buffy a look.  
  
"Obviously."  
  
"So, what, do you, um, know any movie stars?" Buffy finished lamely. Cordelia shook her head slowly, as though Buffy were mentally challenged, but still ended her fight with Anya.  
  
Back in the surveillance room, however, Spike was trying to talk to Buffy.  
  
"Summers, are you reading me? Shit, Harris! What's going on? HARRIS!"  
  
"God, I would love to be in the middle of a California and Pennsylvania sandwich..." He said, completely enamored.  
  
"Oz, could you please do your co-workers job?" Spike asked, sending a pointed glare in a wholly unfocused Xander's way.  
  
"Sure thing."  
  
In the reception hall, Maggie Walsh stood up at the microphone.  
  
"Welcome, ladies! To the 68th annual Miss United States Pageant!" Everyone clapped and cheered, "Now, I know this is exciting and thrilling, but please remember to look through your official handbook so that you may remember the ever important rules."  
  
"No sleeping with the judges, guys." Faith whispered across the table.  
  
"And now, without further ado, may I present to you my wonderful partner, Mr. Clement Longbower!" The tables erupted into cheering, so much that Buffy could not even begin to listen, especially now that Spike was yakking in her ear again.  
  
"Summers, you reading me?" An exasperated voice said.  
  
"Sure am." Buffy whispered as Clem talked.  
  
"How's it goin? Nah, I'm joking, um...you listening to this speech?"  
  
"I'm trying to but I'm being distracted by a pesky Brit."  
  
"Well, according to Oz, Clemmy just announced his retirement."  
  
"Mr. Longbower's retiring?" Buffy asked across the table.  
  
"No! I talked to the poor man this morning." Cordelia said, leaning over covertly, "They're * firing * him. Going for someone newer and younger." Cordelia paused for a moment, "I hope it's Freddie Prinze, Jr."  
  
Buffy sat back, the feeling of sickness overtaking her again.  
  
They officially had their first suspect.  
  
~ 


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Miss Congeniality  
  
Summary: A/U...based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.  
  
Pairing: Spuffy...as always.  
  
~  
  
"Clem? Clement Longbower? You've got to be joking!" Giles laughed as Buffy questioned him on the MC's moral merits inside the dressing room during a rehearsal break, "That man is far from evil. Actually, on the other hand, there is a great chance that he very well * may * be...evil, I mean, but he most certainly does not have the intellect. That man couldn't pull off one of those inane gas balloon things-"  
  
"Whoopee Cushion?" Buffy offered.  
  
"Yes, thank you. He couldn't pull that off, let alone citizen letters and a bomb scare at the Miss United States Pageant." Giles finished, before giving Buffy's roots some extra "fluff" by running his fingers through them and then pulling upward.  
  
"Um, hello? Whatcha doin'?"  
  
"Your roots are sagging."  
  
"That would be from the blood and sweat brought on by the torture out there." Buffy jutted her thumb to the stage, "I'm an FBI agent, I've been through the Academy, not to mention a boot camp-like training for the Bureau, okay? Yet * that * is killing me!"  
  
"Don't be so dramatic." Giles replied, who had moved onto frizz smoothing.  
  
"They are playing Abba, Giles! And, and they are not only just playing Abba, they are playing Abba incessantly!"  
  
"Abba is fun...delightful...spunky...what have you. It's an aspect of Miss United States which I'm afraid may never be reawakened within you." Giles bent down in front of Buffy and tied her sneakers.  
  
"Hey! I can be fun, delightful, and spunky! I just choose not to be. For example, I- I made a really funny joke the other day about the "Miss Lamaze Pageant,"" Buffy began to laugh at the memory, "Cuz Spike's first choice was on maternity leave and..." She trailed off when she noticed the puzzled look Giles was giving her, "Maybe you had to be there."  
  
"Perhaps. Now, go out there and dance your little buttocks off. We'll have a meeting tonight so that I can properly teach you the steps and also how to walk and move in a gown." Buffy's eyes widened.  
  
"Tonight? Giles , I haven't slept in 48 hours, there is no freakin' way I'm gonna-"  
  
"Agent Raleigh will come to your room around midnight. Good day." Giles glided off, not giving Buffy another look.  
  
"Jerk." Buffy muttered, before dragging herself back to the stage.  
  
~  
  
"Buffy!" Willow yelled out, waving her arm and catching up with her new best friend, "Hey!"  
  
"Hi Willow." Buffy said, running her fingers * through * her hair.  
  
"That was a pretty tough work out, huh?" Willow asked, popping a water bottle open.  
  
* Pretty * tough?!? Maybe if you're Wonder Woman...  
  
"It was no big." Buffy lied fluidly, draining the last sip of her water. Willow took the first sip of hers.  
  
"Are you coming to the Orientation Party tonight? It's a thing Miss California and Miss Montana set up."  
  
"Miss Montana? The mute girl?" Buffy asked, stretching her arm across her chest.  
  
"Oh, no. She's not mute. Just really shy. But yeah, that's her!" Buffy cocked her head to the side and considered it.  
  
"What time?"  
  
"Oh, early. Believe me, we * all * understand the importance of beauty sleep." Willow replied cheerfully, "We're meeting in the exercise room around 4-ish."  
  
"Wow. That is early."  
  
"Well, a lot of the girls want to be in bed by 6. And some just really, really like socializing and want to stay until 11, which is curfew." Willow explained.  
  
"4-11?" Buffy asked, not sure if she was hearing right, "The party is 7 hours long?"  
  
"Yeah! Pretty cool huh?"  
  
"Um, sure. I'll probably make a cameo around 9. Will you still be up?" Buffy said, somewhat glad for the time to go over the agenda with Spike and the others.  
  
"Totally!" Willow said excitedly, "So will Cordelia, Tara, Anya, and Miss Massachusetts. I forget her name."  
  
"It's, like, Hope or Charity or something." Buffy said.  
  
"Faith." A male voice said in her ear suddenly.  
  
"Ooh! Faith!" Buffy said, pretending she had just thought of it.  
  
"That's it!" Willow snapped her finger, "Good memory."  
  
"Well, I try."  
  
~  
  
"What do ya have for me, Summers?" Spike asked as Buffy walked into the surveillance room.  
  
"What are you talking about, * Raleigh*? You saw everything I did." Spike shrugged.  
  
"Doesn't mean I'm in your head. Er, I'm not in your brain, anyway. Any leads?" Buffy sighed and sat down next to Oz.  
  
"I thought I did, but Giles dismissed it. Longbower, the retirement/getting fired guy? Apparently, he's pissed, but he doesn't have the smarts to do anything about it. At least that's what I got from Giles. It's kind of hard to tell what he's talking about between his British jumble. No offense." She added as a quick side note to Spike who just waved it off.  
  
"I can't really tell what you all are talking about half the time through your * American * jumble." He replied.  
  
"Do you still want me to do a check on him?" Oz asked Buffy.  
  
"I'm not sure." Buffy said, looking to Spike.  
  
"Better safe than sorry." Spike said nodding to Oz, who made a quick note. Buffy exhaled and stood up.  
  
"Any word from Riley?" Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"Negatory." Xander said, "He's been uncharacteristically stand-offish."  
  
"In lay terms...?" Buffy asked sarcastically.  
  
"He's been keeping out. Which he never does." Oz explained, leaning back in his chair.  
  
"That's weird." Buffy said, scrunching her eyebrows.  
  
"And a blessing. Let's move on." Spike stood up and walked over to the computer, "We've got a new suspect. 2 actually."  
  
"2 suspects?" Buffy bent down next to Spike, not realizing that her hand had fallen on his forearm.  
  
"Uh...yeah..." Spike stared down at the intrusion of his personal space, and didn't like the sparks he felt inside him just from her hand Get a grip, you wanker. "Cordelia Chase and Tara Maclay. Chase is Longbower's distant relative, but apparently their relationship is not so much. He's a bloody surrogate father to her."  
  
"And Tara?"  
  
"Tara is part of a Gay and Lesbian organization, a sub-organization, actually, of a larger one. One which isn't exactly known for playing well with others and one which isn't too big on Miss United States Pageant either not mentioning lesbianism, never giving the title to a lesbian, or maybe for just brushing aside the whole issue. Whatever the case, it definitely does not make sense why a member of that particular group would join this pageant."  
  
"Hold up. Miss Montana likes girls?" Xander asked, stopping the whole conversation, "Hello wet dreams."  
  
"Okay, first? Ew." Buffy pointed to Xander and then turned back to Spike, "And second, Tara? She's so shy and cute though. Hardly a hardened criminal. Hardly a hardened. Huh. Try saying that 10 times fast. Anyway, she's not." Buffy pleaded.  
  
"Could all be an act, Summers. Which is why your friendship with these girls is extremely important for this entire op." Buffy nodded, accepting orders, looking at her watch.  
  
"I'm gonna go take a nap, head over to the party around 9, then I'll pretend to go to sleep around 11, and Spike, you can come get me at midnight." Spike nodded and smiled.  
  
"Now, shoo. Go get your beauty sleep or whatever it is you girls call it."  
  
~  
  
Buffy sat against the wall, crying.  
  
"Everything is so confusing. I just feel so..." She was suddenly stopped by a tight embrace pulling her in, deeper and deeper.  
  
"Buffy..." A soft, gentle voice murmured.  
  
"Who are you?" She asked, whispering. She couldn't make out his face.  
  
"Buffy, do you love me?" He asked.  
  
"I don't know." She replied, mournfully, "I don't know who you are."  
  
"Please. Find out." The voice manifested itself as it leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, "I love you."  
  
"Who are you?" She asked again.  
  
"Miss Massachusetts, who do you think?" Buffy bolted upright and blinked. Faith, the contestant from Massachusetts, sat at the foot of Buffy's bed.  
  
"Well, well, B. Have a nice dream?" Faith raised her eyebrows suggestively, "Seemed a bit too No Children Under 17 for me, hate watchin' that shit. Doesn't do anything as far as I'm concerned."  
  
"Okay, I don't know what you're talking about and I really don't think I want to." Buffy finally said, throwing her legs out of the bed. Faith laughed at this and gave Buffy a hand at standing up.  
  
"Don't worry, B. Now, Willow wanted me to come and get ya. It's 9:20; ya slept in." Buffy nodded and smoothly, covertly, place in her microphone and hidden camera. When Faith was safely out of any possible earshot, walking ahead to the party, Buffy tapped the side of her ear.  
  
"Wake up, boys. I'm about to enter Barbie's Malibu Beach Bash!" She joked sardonically, tossing her hair back. She stifled a laugh when she heard Spike sigh exasperatingly.  
  
"Summers...what have I told you about the Barbie thing?" 


	6. Chapter 6

Title: Miss Congeniality  
  
Summary: A/U...based on the movie, well, Miss Congeniality. Buffy Summers is a no-nonsense FBI agent, who is given the assignment to go undercover at the Miss America pageant.  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.  
  
Pairing: Spuffy...as always.  
  
A/N: Hey, thanks for all the reviews! Now, I know that the first four chapters were suspiciously paralleled to the original MC, but it's gonna spin off into its own little world from here on in, with just a few hints and maybe scenes from the movie.  
  
~  
  
The sound of girlish laughter waved melodiously through the air as Buffy slowly trailed Faith into the pool room. Cordelia, Willow, Tara, and Anya were sitting in a circle, the only contestants brave enough to stand up against the dangerous time, which was cutting heavily into what should've been their beauty sleep.  
  
"Hey guys! Buffy's here!" Willow leaped to her feet and encompassed Buffy into a warm hug, who awkwardly patted the excited red head on the back.  
  
"Hi." Buffy replied, shifting on her feet.  
  
"Come on! We're playing a spirited game of 'I never...'" Anya said, waving the three over.  
  
"Faith might have a problem with that one." Buffy quipped. Faith smirked and shrugged.  
  
"What can I say.I'm adventurous. In every, * every * sense of the word." She winked as the girls let out a unison screech of 'Oh my GOD!' Buffy rolled her eyes and let a tiny laugh slip out.  
  
"Anyway, Willow's up." Cordelia said, flipping her hair back.  
  
"Hmm...okay...I never ate sushi." She finished proudly.  
  
"Please. That was incredibly boring. You're supposed to talk about orgasms. For example, "I never experienced multiple orgasms."" Anya explained.  
  
"Okay then, Pennsy, you're up." Cordelia said with a yawn.  
  
"Alright. I never * never * experienced multiple orgasms." This sent the girls into another laughing riot. Willow and Tara both turned bright red, but as they noticed each other's faces, they began to laugh as well.  
  
"What? It's true." Anya said defensively.  
  
"I'll bet it is, Blondie." Faith said, breaking the seal of her bottled water and downing a few sips.  
  
"My hair is blonde with brown lo-lites." Anya corrected. Buffy cleared her throat.  
  
"So. All that stuff about Mr. Longbower, pretty intense huh?" Cordelia stretched her fingers out.  
  
"What's it to you?" Buffy shrugged.  
  
"I was always a big fan. I just think it's sad that they'd fire a poor, old man just to replace him with someone younger. I mean, he's an American institution."  
  
"Like Dick Clark." Anya interjected.  
  
"Yeah, but Dick doesn't age." Faith explained, "Clemmy has, in a drastic sense." Buffy nodded and cast a sidelong glance to Cordelia.  
  
"What do you think, Cordy?"  
  
"I think it's sad that they feel like they have to get rid of him to boost ratings, but whatever's needed, I guess. It's not really our decision, is it?" Cordelia said, still avoiding Buffy's gaze.  
  
"But, don't you sometimes wish that he could stay?" Buffy pressed.  
  
"I love Clem." Cordelia rolled her eyes from some of the weirded-out looks from the girls, "Not * that * way, freaks! He's like a second father to me!" Cordelia clamped her hand onto her mouth, before closing her eyes. Buffy heard a muffled "Shit" come from behind her hand, as Cordelia shook her head regretfully. She opened her eyes and regained her posture, licking her lips and quirking her eyebrows before refocusing her attention on the girls, "I wasn't supposed to tell you that. I wasn't supposed to tell *anyone* that."  
  
"So, aren't you really upset that he got fired?" Buffy asked, hoping to finally get something out of her.  
  
"God, nosy much? If you must know, I'm * glad * they fired him. They overworked the poor guy, just * because * he's an American institution or whatever. And he would've * never * left; he thought that he had to appease everyone. He's * that * sweet and * that * unselfish. All I know is that if I were him, I would've quit years ago." Cordelia spat out. Buffy's eyes widened and she nodded, signaling the drop of the subject.  
  
Back in the surveillance room, Spike tweaked a few mic buttons in order to hear the conversations more clearly. Oz bent down next to his friend/boss.  
  
"Think she's bluffing?" Spike pursed his lips.  
  
"I can't tell. It's always a possibility, but she seemed pretty genuine."  
  
"Plus she's really hot." Xander replied, "It'd be too much of a disappointment if she was evil."  
  
"Right. Always gotta take * that * into consideration." Spike replied sarcastically.  
  
"I don't know. I'm kinda digging Rhodey over there." Oz pointed at Willow, "She's kinda unique."  
  
"What about you Spike? Whose your favorite?" Graham asked, "I'm partial to Miss California, too."  
  
New Jersey. Spike thought instinctively. However, he pretended to ponder the idea.  
  
"Massachusetts, I guess. I like her attitude." Spike said, "She'd be hotter with a British accent though."  
  
"You think all girls would be hotter with a British accent." Xander replied, accusingly.  
  
"You can take the man outta London, but ya can't take the London outta the man, mate." Spike replied with a smirk.  
  
"Cordy's innocent." Buffy's voice came from inside the mic. Spike leaned down.  
  
"You sure, luv?"  
  
Pause.  
  
"What did you just call me?" Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry was that too derogatory? I call all the chits that, so don't think you're getting special treatment, * luv *." If Spike didn't know any better, he would've guessed Buffy had just giggled.  
  
"Fine. But, yeah, she wasn't faking it. Genuinity all the way. Genuinity...is that a word?" Spike laughed and shrugged.  
  
"Not sure, pet."  
  
"Well, anyway. You can cross her off the list."  
  
"What about Montana?" Xander asked, leaning over.  
  
Buffy glanced over at the other, slightly awkward blonde.  
  
"Not sure." She whispered, "The girl, like, seriously doesn't talk."  
  
"Well, ya better make 'er, pet." Buffy felt another slight tingle go up her arms hearing Spike use a feminine nick name for her, but she ignored it.  
  
"She's pretty close to Willow. Maybe I could use my position as "best friend" to my advantage."  
  
"What do you mean pretty close?" Forrest asked.  
  
Buffy snuck a glance at the two girls and watched as Tara covertly sniffed Willow's hair.  
  
"Close."  
  
~  
  
"Buffy, look up!" Buffy stretched her neck out as she stared perkily at Giles who sat across from her.  
  
"You're not a bloody ostrich, Summers. Relax a bit." Spike walked behind the "contestant" and ran his cool hands over her neck and shoulders before walking on. Buffy stole a peek at Spike's retreating back and frowned.  
  
"Now, Miss Summers, what is your favorite type of music?" Buffy rolled her eyes and faced Giles.  
  
"I like that head-banger heavy metal, about demon cults and cutting all the major arteries in your body. Really hits close to home with me." Giles slammed down the note cards and glared sourly at Buffy.  
  
"Do you honestly think that you are humorous in even the slightest sense of the word?"  
  
"I try." Buffy replied with a yawn.  
  
"Well, don't. The label on the Tylenol bottle only allows a maximum of 4 per every 8 hours." Now it was Buffy's turn to glare.  
  
"You don't even have to do this. I'm in the top 5."  
  
"Still, don't you think that it would be somewhat confusing for the audience if you go up there and start talking about all of your feminist mumbo-jumbo, with absolutely no sentence structure, and still make it into the top 10, not to mention the top 5? Frankly, it would be a bit obvious that it was fixed."  
  
"That's such a good point, it's just..." Buffy trailed off.  
  
"It's just what?" Giles asked.  
  
"It's just that I really, really don't care."  
  
"I just have three more questions, then you can go to bed." Giles offered.  
  
"Fine, go on Troll-from-Scene-24." Buffy said, only to meet a blank look from Giles.  
  
"Sorry, pop culture reference."  
  
"Now, have you read any good books lately?"  
  
"I just finished reading The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold which gave me a new perspective on the aspects of life and death, while also making me aware of the ever growing issue of rape." Buffy replied, in a rehearsed fashion.  
  
"Very good. Now if you could say that sans the stick up your arse, we would be grand." Buffy stuck her tongue out at the consultant and leaned back to glance at the clock.  
  
12:04.  
  
The morning dress rehearsal was going to be hell.  
  
~  
  
Buffy slowly moved her way out of the pavilion, ready to crash onto her nice, soft, comfy hotel bed with absolutely no distractions.  
  
"Hey Summers! Wait up!" Buffy groaned inwardly before turning around to face Spike.  
  
"Raleigh, it's 2 a.m. I'm tired." She whined, which only made Spike smile gently Cor, she's so beautiful. Spike widened his eyes No, no. Not beautiful. Or delectable, or gorgeous, or amazing, or any other bloody synonym. She's cute. Cute. Cute is safe...beautiful not so much.   
  
"Hello, Mr. Zoney? What do you want?" Buffy jutted out her hip and crossed her arms expectantly. Spike swallowed a growing lump in his throat...not sure why he had called after her.  
  
"Nothing, I guess." He finally said lamely, making a mental note to kick himself in the shins until they were black and blue.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes and began to walk away when she felt a hand grab her arm, sending a bolt of...dare she think it... * tingles * dance across her skin. She looked up at Spike, who was staring down at her, his mouth open, taking in air heavily. His eyes were dark and for a moment Buffy got a glimpse at the soul of the man behind the sarcasm. Buffy felt herself unconsciously move closer to him, so that they were barely inches apart.  
  
"Spike?" She whispered a soft question.  
  
Spike closed his eyes, unthinking, and began to lean in towards her lips which were pouted out just centimeters away. Buffy breathed in and tilted her head when a shrill voice called out.  
  
"Miss Summers!" Buffy gasped and broke sharply away from Spike and locked her confused gaze with Spike's mirrored one. Giles stalked over, a gun in hand.  
  
"Mr. Osbourne sent this. You left it behind." Buffy nodded numbly, taking the weapon. She stole a glance at Spike, who was pacing, muttering "Bloody hell..." over and over again to himself. Giles looked back and forth between the odd couple and just shook his head. Don't ask. Don't tell. Buffy slowly walked over to Spike after Giles left and rested a hand on his shoulder. He tensed at the contact and turned back to her, his face reddening.  
  
"Look, Summers -" Buffy held up her hand.  
  
"Don't. We're both tired, we both are frustrated with our work, and neither one of us was thinking a moment ago, okay? So let's just leave it at that and not mention this ever, * ever * again." Spike surprisingly felt his heart twist, but covered it up with a smirk.  
  
"Took the words outta my mouth, pet." Buffy let out a breath she had been holding.  
  
"Good." The two of them began walking back to her room in silence when Spike stopped.  
  
"Although..." He started. Buffy turned around incredulously.  
  
"Although what?"  
  
"Maybe we should've gone through with that. I mean, I would've been honored to give you your first real kiss." Spike teased. Buffy's insides froze as Spike spoke a truth that she had always concealed. She was like the girl in that bad Drew Barrymore movie. She really had never been kissed.  
  
However, she just sent a sardonic laugh through her lips.  
  
"Guess that depends on your definition of real." Spike snorted.  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy tapped her jaw line with a long finger and smiled devilishly.  
  
"Let's just say some of the girls in the office talk about your inadequate lips...among other things." She cast a too-long glance at his crotch and giggled inwardly as his face paled even more than usual.  
  
"What? That's not true. It can't be true!" Buffy had to laugh at his sullen tone of voice; which was almost as though he was a little boy who just found out the truth about Santa.  
  
"Goodnight Spike." She said, opening her bedroom door and slipping in quietly.  
  
Spike shook of his head, sure that she was just trying to get a rise out of him (she * had * to have been), walking away. He stopped and spun back around, seeing one last glimpse of blonde hair before she disappeared behind the screen door. He swallowed another lump in his throat and unconsciously wettened his lips, before widening them into a sad smile. He blinked his eyes downward and then up again. He cursed to himself, pulling out a cigarette.  
  
"Goodnight...Buffy." He said as he lit the fag with a wistful sigh, "Goodnight." 


End file.
